Jingda University Library closes at 10 p.m.
Students were gradually packing up their bags and heading out, while Fu Sang sat in a hidden spot, watching the girl in the hat behind the service desk from a distance.
No one could see the wisps of smoke slowly spreading from the ornaments at his waist toward the distance, lingering by the girl for a moment, then drifting back to Fu Sang as if conscious.
Fu Sang kept his head down, playing Klotski. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a wisp of black smoke reach out and gently curl around his finger, and he asked: “What?”
The black smoke condensed into a human shape, sniffing his neck for a moment before speaking:
“The scent is very similar to that young woman by the lake, with a strong bloody scent. I can’t tell whether it’s a ghost or a human.”
“Got it.”
Fu Sang didn’t look up, nor did he move away, letting Qi Changying press closer and closer until the tip of his nose was almost touching his neck.
“How did you know there was something wrong with that young woman?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Qi Changying still voiced the doubt in his heart.
If he remembered correctly, he hadn’t provided Fu Sang with any blood these past two days. The ability to see underworld spirits that the last drop of blood had given Fu Sang should have worn off by now. So Fu Sang shouldn’t have been able to see the nether yin energy around her.
And apart from a wound on her wrist, that girl looked no different from an ordinary person on the outside.
Qi Changying did know that the copper coins hanging at Fu Sang’s waist could detect yin energy, but when facing that girl just now, neither the coins nor the copper bell had made a sound.
So Qi Changying had originally intended to replace the function of these magical artifacts and speak up to remind Fu Sang.
But who knew that before that, Fu Sang had already sensed something was off on his own and gone to ask around for the girl’s name.
Qi Changying was surprised that Fu Sang had such an ability and was curious about how it worked exactly.
Fu Sang only told him two words, flatly, “A feeling.”
“What kind of feeling?”
“‘Shi.'” Fu Sang raised an eyebrow slightly, uncharacteristically patient with his explanation: “Her shi is bad.”
The reason Fu Sang hadn’t been discovered to be unable to see spirits until he was twelve was that his five senses and spiritual perception far exceeded others’. He could tell the good or bad of what spirit masters called “shi” from smells, sounds, and even the subtlest changes in the surrounding air currents. Perhaps one could also call this “intuition” or “premonition.”
He had relied on this “feeling” to get through the foundational courses before actually facing the spirits of the underworld.
Saying “he got through” wasn’t entirely accurate either, because apart from his eyes, all his other abilities surpassed those of other children by several times. He had once been hailed by countless people as the “number one genius of the nether path.”
“It’s hard to imagine. What does that feeling resemble? Is it like a smell?”
“Too many questions.”
“Alright.”
After that, Qi Changying really did stop talking.
One by one, the lights in the library went dark, and the librarian made final rounds in various places to make sure no students had been left behind.
When Fu Sang finally saw “Wei Luyuan” behind the service desk move, he slowly put down his phone, took a talisman paper from his pocket, lit a corner with a lighter, then blew it out in one breath.
Fu Sang equipped his Ghost Blood Whip, then casually calculated a few times with his fingers, causing the five strings of copper coins hanging down to clink and clatter against each other.
As if summoned by something, the talisman ash that had fallen at his feet suddenly swirled up and floated toward Wei Luyuan’s direction like living insects.
It wasn’t until “Wei Luyuan” packed up and left, and the librarian came to remind Fu Sang that closing time was approaching, that Fu Sang finally slung his backpack over his shoulder and sauntered out with his hands in his pockets.
“Wei Luyuan” didn’t head toward the dorms, but walked straight to the school gate.
Fu Sang followed her at a steady distance and eventually followed her to a middle-class residential community near the school.
This community was a bit nicer than where Fu Sang lived, but it also had some age to it. The facilities inside were fairly old, and the shrubs along the roadside were sparse and lifeless.
As Fu Sang surveyed the surroundings, he watched “Wei Luyuan” enter Building 6, Unit 1.
After that, he found a spot to sit down, tilting his head up to look at the few dark, unlit windows left on Building 6.
After a moment, the light on the top-left floor came on.
He waited a while longer, then extended his hand. A few specks of talisman ash drifted back and landed in his palm.
He closed his fingers, and the gray specks dissipated like smoke.
Having followed the person home and confirming the location, Fu Sang stood up to leave when the phone in his pocket suddenly rang.
He pulled out the phone and looked at the name “Huo Wei” on the screen, and it was only then that he realized he seemed to have forgotten about someone.
“Zhuge Fu Sang!!!” Huo Wei was practically shrieking: “You’re that stingy, huh? You won’t even treat me to a barbecue? I’ve been sitting here, eating until I was stuffed, where are you?! What, did you jump into the nameless lake to go fishing for Xia Han’s soul or something?!”
Fu Sang rarely felt anything close to guilt, “Sorry, I forgot about you. How much did you eat? I’ll transfer the money to you.”
“This isn’t about the money, you asshole! You deeply wounded my soul! Give me a reason, or I’m burning your shop down tomorrow.”
Fu Sang raised an eyebrow slightly.
He did have a fairly legitimate reason, so he immediately produced it, “I saw Wei Luyuan.”
“Wei Luyuan?” But Huo Wei was clearly not satisfied with this answer. “Haven’t you seen Wei Luyuan before?”
“Not the Wei Luyuan by the lake.”
“?” Huo Wei was about to mock him a bit more, but one sentence from Fu Sang shut her up, “It was the real Wei Luyuan.”
“…Wh-what do you mean? The Wei Luyuan by the lake can be fake?” Huo Wei’s anger subsided considerably.
She hadn’t expected that Fu Sang’s disappearance was actually because he’d run into something serious.
“Mm.”
“Why? How can you tell which one’s real and which one’s fake?”
“Because the Wei Luyuan by the lake calls herself that. The Wei Luyuan I found has an official identity, with someone to corroborate it.”
“…” Huo Wei was about to be confused by him, “Then if the one by the lake isn’t Wei Luyuan, who is it?”
But Fu Sang didn’t address her question.
He only confirmed with her: “You said Xia Han was a loner, kept to herself, and had no friends?”
“Yes. Both people I asked specifically mentioned Xia Han’s personality, they said she kept to herself, was very introverted, and practically only studied. They also said Xia Han’s family wasn’t well off. After she died, her family only showed up once. They didn’t even look at the body, just went to her dorm room, took the valuable stuff, and left. They never showed up again after that…”
These were all details Huo Wei had planned to tell Fu Sang in person. She let out a sigh, “So what’s going on with your situation? How did you find out about the real and fake Wei Luyuan? Does Wei Luyuan have anything to do with Xia Han or not? Hey? Hey??”
“Ah,” Fu Sang withdrew his gaze from somewhere, snapped back to attention, and responded to Huo Wei: “Hold on. You’ll find out soon enough.”
“What? What are you going to do? Where are you?? I’ll come find you???”
“Jianyuan Community.”
Fu Sang quickly gave a location, then hung up the phone, stepped forward, and headed into Building 6.
On the top-left floor of Unit 1, the light that had just come on went out again, because its owner had already left.
Wei Luyuan had a long, wide guitar case strapped to her back, and she quickly disappeared into the night.
Fu Sang withdrew his gaze, looked up at the flickering old lightbulb at the unit entrance, and walked inside.
The light in the sixth-floor hallway was broken. Fu Sang fished out a flashlight from his bag, turned it on, held it in his mouth, bent down to examine the lock cylinder, then took a bobby pin from his collar.
Not many people in old communities installed combination locks; Wei Luyuan’s door only had an ordinary ox-head lock.
He straightened the bobby pin, inserted it into the keyhole, twisted and turned it, and after a moment, there was a click, and the door opened.
Qi Changying, standing to the side, was dumbfounded: “You know how to do this too?”
Fu Sang raised an eyebrow slightly, taking the flashlight out of his mouth, “It never hurts to have more skills.”
Actually, Qi Changying felt that picking a lock and sneaking into someone else’s home was wrong and wanted to say a few words of persuasion. But when Fu Sang pushed the door open and he smelled a very unpleasant odor wafting out from inside, his expression immediately turned serious, and the words of advice died in his throat.
Fu Sang ignored him, raising the flashlight and entering the house.
In the pitch darkness, only his flashlight cast a cold white light.
Once inside, Fu Sang immediately noticed something off:
The noise level in this house was a bit loud.
It wasn’t any strange sounds, he could tell they were just the faint noises of appliances running. But because there were so many of them, layering on top of each other and settling into the otherwise silent room, they sounded especially grating.
Fu Sang swept the flashlight around.
The place was a two-bedroom, one-living-room unit, which should have been fairly spacious. But strangely, there was no sofa, TV, or coffee table in the living room. Instead, it was filled with clothes racks, desks, beds, and other furniture you’d normally find in a bedroom. The whole living room was packed full, and the empty spaces were almost entirely occupied by stacked storage bins filled with books and exam papers.
If all the bedroom stuff was out here, then what would be inside?
Fu Sang walked straight to one of the bedroom doors, pressed down the handle, pushed it open, and swept the flashlight beam inside…
This was the source of the noise;
Two large freezers were squeezed in the small bedroom.
Fu Sang wrinkled his nose very slightly, walked over, and lifted the lid of one freezer.
A wave of cold air hit him.
The freezer was filled to the brim with ice.
A woman living alone was unlikely to have more than one freezer, and normal daily life wouldn’t require this much ice.
So he reached his hand into the ice and rummaged around.
The ice clunked dully as it rolled aside, revealing a bloodstained corner of fabric underneath.
Further down, there was a reddish-yellow, frost-covered section. Fu Sang examined it closely under the light for a moment before realizing it was a severed end. Judging by the thickness, it should be the upper limb of some kind of primate.
For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the low humming of the machines.
Then a phone ringtone cut through the air.
Fu Sang pulled out his phone and put it to his ear: “Hello?”
On the other end came Zhuge Buhuo’s voice:
“Hey, kid, guess what? That situation you mentioned…I actually got an answer!”
…
“So, it’s because you miss Xia Han that you like the nameless lake so much?”
Fang Zehao sat on a rock by the lake, listening to the girl tell him a not-so-long, not-so-short story.
The girl lowered her head, tucked her long hair behind her ear, and nodded very lightly.
“…I’m sorry, Yuanyuan.” Fang Zehao couldn’t help but reach out and hug her:
“I shouldn’t have suspected you like that. You’re so sincere with your friend, and I thought…”
“You don’t need to apologize, Zehao.”
The girl leaned gently against his shoulder.
Fang Zehao could feel her leaning on him, and his heart softened.
With the atmosphere and emotions both in place, some words naturally had to be said:
“I… I really like you, Yuanyuan. The moment I saw you for the first time, my heart skipped a beat. I’ve never felt this way before. I… I want to protect you forever. You can tell me all your troubles and sadness… So, will you be my girlfriend, Yuanyuan?”
Fang Zehao was so nervous he was stumbling over his words.
The girl leaned against his shoulder, the corners of her mouth curving up ever so slightly.
She raised her hand and hugged him back.
“Thank you for listening to my story, Zehao.”
The girl’s tone was gentler than the waters of the lake. She paused briefly, then brought up something completely unrelated:
“The moonlight is beautiful tonight.”
“Yeah… Huh?”
The girl let out a soft laugh, “What I mean is, thank you for understanding me, and I really do like you too. The night is so beautiful… won’t you have a drink with me? How about it?”
“…Alright.” Having gotten the answer he wanted, Fang Zehao held her even tighter.
But he didn’t see that behind him, the girl’s sleeve had rolled up a little, revealing a deep, dark red wound on her wrist.
…
“Blood sacrifice for a dead soul?”
“Yes. I don’t know what made you think of asking such a tricky question. Do you have any idea how many books I flipped through and how many seniors I asked before I got an answer? Anyway, if you want to make a ghost both like a human and like a ghost so it can’t be told apart, there is a way. You need to find a keepsake to summon the dead person’s soul, then have a living person use blood to water that keepsake every day. After eighty-one days, that soul will transform into a ‘humanoid,’ sharing its life with the blood donor. From then on, the ghost carries human blood, and the human carries yin energy…naturally, they become indistinguishable.”
Zhuge Buhuo paused after finishing, then added, “But the conditions for this to work are extremely strict. The reason it’s not widely known is that it’s almost impossible to pull off.”
“Stop the nonsense. Get to the point.”
Fu Sang opened the other freezer. It was the same…filled with ice and body parts.
Qi Changying had wandered off somewhere to play; Fu Sang didn’t pay it any mind, just listened to Zhuge Buhuo on the other end:
“Damn it, what’s with that attitude… So let’s start with the keepsake used to summon the soul. That keepsake has to carry the deceased’s purest emotion, and the blood donor must be the owner of the keepsake and the object of that emotion. That alone is already difficult. But even harder is that after the ritual, the living person shares their lifespan with the ghost. You know what sharing means? It means the remaining years of life get cut in half, half for you, half for me. And that’s not all. What really seals the deal is that from then on, this person and the ghost are bound together. If you get hurt, I get hurt. If you die, I die.
“Quite terrifying, right? And here’s the hardest part of all…the blood donor has to do all this willingly. Do you know what willingly means? It means if there’s even a hint of hesitation, a shred of fear, any extra thought at all, the whole thing won’t work. But how could a normal person not be scared hearing all this? So blood sacrifice is almost never successful, unless the person is a crazy fool who doesn’t care about life or death.”
Listening to Zhuge Buhuo ramble on, Fu Sang frowned slightly.
He closed the freezer and was about to leave the room, but as the flashlight beam swept across, he suddenly noticed something that had fallen underneath the freezer.
So he directly hung up on Zhuge Buhuo, crouched down, and fished the thing out from under the freezer.
It was an ID card.
He turned the card over. The photo side showed a young man, and the name section read the name: Yu Pingchuan.
Fu Sang raised an eyebrow, wiped the ID card on his coat, and was about to put it in his pocket when he suddenly heard a faint noise behind him.
He thought it was Qi Changying at first, but the next instant, his heart dropped heavily, and his instinct for danger made him turn around immediately…
He saw Wei Luyuan’s hat brim, which she had pulled down low.
In the darkness, she held up a baseball bat with long nails driven through it. The moment Fu Sang turned his head, she swung it with force toward the back of his skull!
She went straight for a killing blow from the start, with no intention of leaving him any chance to survive.
This kind of ruthlessness was something most people who had never killed before couldn’t possess.
Blood splattered.
The flashlight hit the floor, and got stuck at an angle among the clutter.
The beam shone upward, perfectly illuminating Wei Luyuan’s face hidden in the darkness.
Fu Sang fell to the ground, his vision blurry, and Wei Luyuan also became a mess of overlapping images.
He saw the figure in those overlapping images walk closer with the bat, gradually moving out of the shaft of light, and look down at him from above.
Then, she raised her weapon again.
The nails at the end of the bat were still dripping blood.
Seconds later, it came down on him once more.
